


The One is Stranger to Another

by Kamsu



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe, Blood and Violence, Character Bashing, Character Death, Dark, Dark Harry Potter, Drug Use, Eating Disorders, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Manipulation, Mental Health Issues, Politics, Prostitution, Racism, Rape/Non-con Elements, Russian Mafia, Slavery, Slow Burn, Terrorism, Torture, Underage Drinking, Underage Sex, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-30
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2019-09-02 18:07:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16792051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kamsu/pseuds/Kamsu
Summary: When the man watching over Harry makes himself visible and takes Harry away, things get different. Politics, Bratva and social events comes to be everyday thing in the magical world of Russia. When the Golden boy is needed he isn’t so golden anymore and has managed to charm the enemies of Great Britain.





	1. The man who knew his name

**Author's Note:**

> Please read the tags. I won't be posting any individual warning since they are in the tags and I don't like spoilers front of the chapters.

Harry James Potter was extremely odd child. He was sometimes almost happy sitting alone in dark cupboard, he was very satisfied being completely friendless and he didn’t complain when he did all the housework for his guardians. He didn’t also complain them treating him bad, worse than bad. He was not their family and he knew that. He also knew that in a way he deserved to be called a freak. There was nothing normal about him and he had learned all that without his guardians help, they just confirmed it.

He didn’t mind being quiet and staying out of sight. Being quiet had been quite handy sometimes, no one really expected him to say much, so they wouldn’t ask so he wouldn’t have to lie. And there would then be no trouble or at least not much.

He liked his long hair that refused to be shorter; growing back in seconds after Aunt Petunia would cut half of it off. That for once showed that there was something wrong with him. He didn’t mind, it was nice. It made him feel good, not being like them, his guardians and all of their friends with same haircuts and flowers in gardens. He didn’t exactly think he was better than them but he was very happy being different even thought it meant being a freak, son of an alcoholic murderer and a crack whore. That they reminded him, daily. He didn’t hate them, at least he was sure he didn’t, he didn’t exactly know what hate was. He didn’t know what was being sad or happy. He thought that he was happy when he was alone or had he’s books, but if he didn’t know sad, how could he be sure what was happiness.

Not hating didn’t mean that he liked. He had come thinking that he didn’t like humans’ period. He never met anyone that interested him or was nice to him, no matter how polite he had been or how quiet. He had come to liking birds; they seemed to follow him sometimes when he went out. Especially the black ones.

Harry thought that the birds were pretty and he would often give them his food and not eat himself. He thought that the birds were hungrier and more deserving. 

He often liked to wonder around, find new places to hide and read. He wasn’t yet that good at reading but he had come to liking Dickens, Shakespeare, Tolstoy and Dostoyevsksi. He could remember few sayings and would repeat them in his mind in nights when he was bit too scared to sleep. Those times would be when his uncle was drunk or when his cousin had friends over.

He had also tried to read book called bible after his Aunt would talk about it and tell him he would go to hell and God would judge him to internal pain and horror. He had been confused that what was God, how could someone to such a thing. He didn’t get too long with bible and came to conclusion that it was better to just wait the judgment than try to understand it.

_“We can know only that we know nothing. And that is the highest degree of human wisdom.”_

_― Leo Tolstoy, War and Peace_

**1986**

He was hiding in the bushes and trying to be quiet as he could but it didn’t seem to work too well. He was shaking and he’s teeth were making noise as they clinked together. It was really cold, freezing really; the ground was fully white and icy, more snow coming down. He of course had no coat or proper shoes, just too big, rag like t-shirt and matching pants. He’s shoes had holes and only thing trying to keep his ear from freezing off was the long black hair. He could barely move his hands or legs so he had no escape plan if he ever needed one.

He had run straight to bushes as he had heard steps of someone coming to playground. He wasn’t supposed to be there, he was suppose to stay in the shed and not be seen as his guardians hosted some kind of fancy dinner party. He was the shame of the family, the freak and burden that no one wanted. They always wanted him ether out of the sight or doing housework. But he had been hungry and wondered off and not looked exactly where he was going. So ending up at the tiny playground at the end of driveway was not the plan. It was obvious that there was no food in there, but the swings could have somehow kept him warm as they moved. He didn’t get to that and now he was indeed hiding from whoever was coming in his way. He tried to make himself even smaller, what seemed impossible, since the child was already unbelievably small, tiny and bony or however you would like to describe him. 

Some reason he couldn’t hear the steps anymore that scared him since there was no reason to them just disappear. He hadn’t heard the person leaving or anything. The situation cleared pretty soon as he heard a voice above his head.

“That does not look very warm or comfortable place to sit”

Man had a thick accent, but Harry didn’t know its origin, since he never met anyone from abroad. It did sound wonderful in he’s ears and when the man said some words, most likely some kind of curse, in weird language, Harry thought that it was the most amazing thing he had ever heard. It took him almost minutes to realize that he should have answered something. It was rude not to. Still he was scared out of his mind so maybe that excused him.

“I’m sorry, sir”. Harry's voice was really quiet, he had learned in his six years of life that it was easier to be quiet, less trouble, less making his guardians angry. He couldn’t keep his eyes away from the strange man, even thought that was even ruder than not answering, he knew that. But still, the man had something in him that made it hard to look away. Some sort of an aura around him.

He was very pale man, even more pale than Harry whose skin could get lost in snow, with very dark eyes. Dangerous eyes you would say. He was tall and his shoulders were so board that it would be miracle to ever reach hands around the man. As his eyes, the hair was dark, long like Harry’s but tied back, very neatly. What caught Harry’s eyes, beside the beard that was very unusual in Surrey, were the clothes. Man was wearing a suit that looked like it was from 1800’s and huge fur coat. It sure was cold for someone without a coat at all, but it was only -1 degrees Celsius so fur coat was not a thing to go running around without tripping from sweat.

“I take that as you agree. Tell me then what are you sitting in there for?” Man hovering over Harry talked again. In a way Harry had forgotten he was there, what was ridiculous, since all he did was stare at the man and wondered about him. Still he jumped a bit hearing his voice and feeling eyes burning into his skull.

“Well, sir. I am hiding” Harry’s voice was shaking, partly from cold and partly from obvious reasons. He had terrible need to get up and run into hiding somewhere else, where he would actually be hiding, but even getting up seemed impossible in this moment.

“That is interesting. May I ask why you are hiding? You should at least wear some clothes that are proper for hiding in such a places. Don’t you agree, Harry”. Again, Harry didn’t answer, for many reasons. First, he was not sure if it was okay to say he was hiding from the man or if it was better to say that he was hiding because he had run away from the shed he had been sent to. Second, explaining his clothing situation never went too well. There had been some of those in school and when he told the truth there would always be trouble and when he lied there was also trouble. And last, he was thinking really hard that when had he told the man his name or had his guardians maybe sent someone after him and that was why the man knew his name. He wasn’t sure so he didn’t say a thing.

“I see that you are not saying anything. I should take offence in that but it looks like I scared the shit out of you, so I must apologize. I think it’s time for you to get up now Harry and go home; they will be looking for you soon. We shall meet again and next time, don’t hide, so we can use the time to talk.” This time he was very serious so Harry got up very fast but still when he was up the man was gone. Leaving the six years old boy standing into park, confused and still hungry.

It was very weird and interesting meeting and in way Harry was looking forward to the fact that man had said they would be meeting again. He had no idea who the man was but it couldn’t be worse than his uncle for sure. It was weird being interested in another human for Harry, it never happened before.

Harry didn’t own a watch but as some of the crows around him started to get restless; Harry took the man’s advice and took his direction toward home. Or whatever place it was suppose to call, it wasn’t exactly what his books descripted as home. For some reason he wasn’t cold anymore and it took some time to notice, he just assumed that the weather had gotten better or his feet were just too numb to freeze anymore. Sure there was no other explanation.

*

In his cupboard, Harry had a small flashlight, it wasn’t a good one, no, but enough to see some of the print in book. He did miss some of the lines as he couldn’t keep the light directed straight to the book since then it would also been seen outside his little personal space. It was past midnight, but Harry was too restless to read, usually the books made him sleepy but not tonight. He was exhausted but no sleep was granted. He got lost in his thoughts once in a while, seeing stars and snow, feeling freezing but warm in funny way. The spiders he shared the cupboard with seemed to stare at him, what was extremely weird, spiders didn’t stare. Did they?

_“My friend, I've been lying all my life. Even when I was telling the truth. I never spoke for the truth, but only for myself, I knew that before, but only now do I see...Oh, where are those friends whom I have insulted with my friendship all my life? And everyone, everyone! Savez-vous, perhaps I'm lying now; certainly I'm also lying now. The worst of it is that I believe myself when I lie. The most difficult thing in life is to live and not lie...and...and not believe one's own lie, yes, yes, that's precisely it!”_

_― Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Demons_

Back in his book, Harry had no idea what it meant, but it did sound nice. Something about lies, those he did tend to avoid but they often followed him, saved him. Weird being saved by a lie, absolutely weird, made no sense at all. Perhaps thought, it was meant to be so. Weird, indeed. Harry wondered what the foreign words meant and what country they came from, certainly not from same as the man from park. These were too elegant, the way his man spoke was more brazen and harsh, better to his ears.

His man? Why was he thinking that the man was his, Harry did not even know his name. He did know Harry’s what was scary in way. The man was not his. Someone cannot be someone’s. Someone is not an object, could something that is not an object be owned. That would be just stupid.

*

The man in dark corner of dirty pub in Knockturn Alley was a regular sight. He didn’t exactly look like a regular, being dressed like a gentleman and rich and pub being dirty, filthy and most likely a place for criminals. Still, there he was every day in that same dark corner with same drink. Whiskey, no rocks. It was not good whiskey, some cheap piece of shite, found from traders market. Owner of the pub was not into selling anything expensive since most of his customers would rather spend their money on whores. He didn’t count on this man coming every day, but for some reason he always came.

It annoyed the owner, he didn’t like foreigners, even thought he knew that man had been in England for years, God know why.

Today the man has showed up soaking wet, what was a wonder, you would think someone loaded and most likely with title could have an umbrella. The owner still didn’t say anything, the man brought money in, his weird friends came by and bough all the booze he had.

Now he was alone, mumbling something in Russian. Sometimes cursing in English and scaring other customers. Some women would time to time try to get man interest, but soon failing.

“ебать , сатана , дьявол”, words came flying out of his mouth, with frustration. He had gotten step forward today, talked to the boy, Harry. It was good, but it had been terrible. Boy had been so cold and seemed really dumb what he knew Harry wasn’t. He was really smart boy but those muggles were destroying him. He should have stayed longer or just kidnapped him. That could have worked. No one else was watching the boy and the muggles wouldn’t care so it should have been easy. Instead he chose to scare the boy and leave him in disgusting clothes in to snow. That wasn’t the best plan. He had been there almost 5 years, watching the boy, making sure he didn’t die or get too hurt. Sometimes he had actually saved the boy, not that Harry knew that. He had been in cold too long, would have died of it if he hadn’t cast a warning spell, same with sun and no water situation. It took year and half to find him after idiot headmaster had dumped the kid to muggles. So the boy was alive and not hurt, well not too badly at least, except he might be crazy or somehow mentally ill. Then again who wasn’t? He himself had spent 4 years in Siberian prison in his youth so he could definitely not say that he was fully in his mind. He wasn’t sure why had gotten so interested in the boy, at first it was a job, but now he was actually feeling protective and somehow had managed to make a list in his head to fix things about the boy and his life. Fixing the boy wasn’t exactly like it sounded; more like introducing him to right style and making sure he would speak many languages and know when to be arrogant or humble. 5 years was a long time for sure, after the fall of Dark Lord he had been ready to go home but the boss had other plans. “Watch the boy”, “Mold the boy”, “Teach him”, “When the time comes…” He had no idea what was so special, well something in that boy had put the Dark Lord into to ground, but now, it was everything. Everything was special and soon it was time, to whatever. So here he was, thinking what exactly it was that he would be speaking to Harry about next time he saw him, he did tell the boy that they would talk after all. So far it was not going too well.

“Mac! Get me another whiskey. Now” 

*

Harry was sitting in frozen bench behind the house, so someone seeing him was around 0,01% chance, he was reading Mein Kampf. He had been staring the words over an hour already like a maniac, what suited the theme pretty well. It was like he was in hurry to finish it, what could make sense, since if his aunt would ever saw that Harry was reading something written by Hitler, he wouldn’t be getting away with only a hit in a head with a frying pan. But aunt and uncle had called Hitler a freak, like Harry, so the six years old got curious about what made Hitler freak and could Hitler have had any similar things that described him as a freak. Mein Kampf didn’t exactly help finding out the reason since it was by Hitler’s own words and not someone who decided to call Herr Hitler a freak. Also it didn’t help that Harry was six and had no understanding of politics and the book had many words he never heard of. He made himself a promise that when grow up a little and got to meet these things called politics, he would read it again. Till then he needed to find another way to research the freakiness of both of them. His list of what to do had gotten quite big already. He loved to read his books, that were digged out of trash or given him by nice library lady, and he thought that what he read was beautiful, inspiring and extremely useful. But the scripts were not easy to understand, from almost every book he made some kind of note about what to learn before he read that book again. From Demons he made a note to learn French, not that he knew that the language was actually French and from war and peace he made a note to learn about humanity and what is a definition of life. Hard questions for a young boy. 

But he was Harry; he needed to learn like he needed his own space and quiet thing.


	2. “Who says I’m not under protection of God” – Adolf Hitler

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the man watching over Harry makes himself visible and takes Harry away, things get different. Politics, Bratva and social events comes to be everyday thing in the magical world of Russia. When the Golden boy is needed he isn’t so golden anymore and has managed to charm the enemies of Great Britain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First thank you so much for all the kudos and comments they mean lot to me.   
> All the warnings for this story are in the tags so please read them.

Harry was used to birds flying around him all the time, but a huge brown owl was not expected, especially with letter attached to its leg. He never met an owl before, never thought anything of them, so he never imaged an owl to be used as carrier pigeon, since those were pigeons. Not that he would ever get a letter by pigeon ether or by any bird. The birds were just there. Flying, waiting to get food, telling him what the time was and simply keeping company.

Still there it was a huge owl with weird looking letter. With seal and all, hand written obviously, with some vintage style ink maybe. He didn’t know if he would dare to touch it but it did have “Harry” written on top with nice calligraphy. So what the hell, he thought and ripped the letter fast out of the birds leg. Soon as he did that the owl took off, what was a relief. Very carefully Harry opened the letter, making sure not to rip anything, keeping the seal whole so he could take another look at it later.

_Dobroye utro Harry_

_I apologies if Ives didn’t know how to behave, he is very sensitive bird and didn’t take to liking that I sent him to fly in cold weather. Our last meeting was very brief and I did promise to meet again, talk some. Here I am with sincere thoughts asking you to come meet me to Weston’s Coffee shop at Eleventh Street, at noon tomorrow._

_To help with your thoughts, you did not inform me of your name and I do not know your guardians, you have my honest word on that._

_And please try to wear something that doesn’t have holes on it._

The letter wasn’t signed in anyway but it was quite obvious who had sent it. Although it was not that obvious since Harry didn’t really know who “the obvious” person actually was. And again the rambling started in his head. Wonder what it would sound if he would be doing it aloud, telling someone his thoughts. Would that someone fall asleep or get a headache or was it possible to there be someone that could catch upon what Harry was talking so fast about that it could turn into a conversation. Well it would take some time to find out; right now he would settle being his own only listener. It made it actually lot easier, every time he disagreed on something he also was agreeing so it was quite fast to resolve what was the right direction, since all he needed to do was convince the other half of him to agreeing or disagreeing. Harry’s mind was just too complicated for outsiders. It was like one of those art pieces that no one really knew what it was but still thought it was really good and paid way too much for.

“Boy! Come make some breakfast, you are late!” Aunt Petunia shrieked from the window. Her voice had this high pitch that made all the birds and insets flee and fast. She looked angry, but she always looked angry. She had huge teeth; it was miracle that she could close her mouth. Her eyes nose was really pointy and always up, she would hold her head up so high that she kept complaining about neck pain constantly. And when she put Harry to make breakfast or any other food, she would stand in the corner, trying to escape the smell, because everything her husband and son ate was too fatty for her, she needed to stay skinny but exercising was out of question. Still she couldn’t ever leave the kitchen, what if Harry messed up something.

“Yes, aunt Petunia. Coming”

Harry made his way to kitchen and started to fry some bacon and scrambled eggs. The grease would always do some burns into his skin but he was used to it, it didn’t hurt and it didn’t even leave scars like what he already had from being pressed into hot stove as punishment or being pushed down the stairs. Cooking was easy, it would only take a minute and when the family ate he could steal some food, not much but some.

He was wondering about the letter. It had said that he needed to wear something better; he didn’t know how he would manage with that. He didn’t own anything that didn’t have any holes on it. He could try to sneak and take some of his cousin’s clothes but his clothes being Dudley’s old, other Dudley’s clothes would be too big also and he wasn’t sure if wearing something that big was also a problem for a mystery man. Even his aunts shirts fitted him better but those were all covered in flowers or extremely pink. Then there was the money issue, going into coffee shop without money didn’t sound that great ether, what would he do there. Just sit and get dirty looks from waitresses? He knew what kind of place Weston’s was and he had always wondered what would those huge cakes taste like what decorated its windows. It looked expensive, vintage style with chandeliers and trays of macaroons, bit like something he has seen in his classmates notebook cover, Marie Antoinette’s tea party.

“Oi, boy! What is taking so long, don’t you dare to burn it! Your uncle needs to eat properly, freak.” Petunia made some huffed noise from kitchen corner. Looking even more annoyed than usual. She hated being there, hungry no less. Maybe an apple and some fruity smoothie today for her. Her husband and son would be up soon and that piece of worthless nephew of hers was too slow, she didn’t want to see her husband in bad mood at first in the morning. She was too tired.

“For God’s sake, hurry up. Do I have to smack you?”

“I’m almost done, Aunt Petunia”, Harry was so in his thought that he forgot what he was doing. It was a wonder that nothing was burned. Thanks to any higher power there was. Putting the bacon, eggs, muffins and some fruits to two plates, he was done. He took them to table, poured some coffee and orange juice to ready. He could hear the stomping of heavy steps on stairs and was hoping he could take off before they were down, but by the look on his aunts face there was no change. He made himself small as possible and tried to look invisible. The smell of dark roast coffee was covering the room as the whale looking father and son took their places at dining table. Judging the food in front of them, trying to find something wrong with it, but there was none, so response was simple hum.

“Aunt Petunia, would you tell me today’s chores, please? I could start them soon, I don’t need to eat anything, only if there are leftovers.” Harry tried to be most polite and chaste, it was the best way to avoid aunt Petunia getting twitchy, that would set his uncle on state too.

“Yes, boy. Get some paper so you won’t forget, I won’t tell you twice. There is a lot to do today. We will have guests again tomorrow”.

Harry gave a nob and went to find some old envelope. Harry couldn’t use actually paper, because that would be wasting Petunias expensive letter paper or notes. Using an envelope was the best choice; it was white so his notes would be easy to read, unlike old newspaper he used to have to use. A pen he had found from playground so there was no complains on that.

“I have a paper now, aunt”

“Good. First, there is too much snow on the front lawns paths, it looks ugly and will wet shoes, so get rid of it. But don’t just move it on other part of the lawn, take it away somewhere, or melt it. I don’t care. There is laundry and I need the good curtains and tablecloth ironed, silvers polished and china needs to get from the basement and cleaned. Be really careful with that, it cost more than our car. Vacuum the house and organize Dudley’s rooms. I will be gone till five pm so get it done before I get back.”

The list wasn’t any bigger and any other time someone was coming over but apparently it was someone more important because aunt wanted the china and silvers out. Harry wrote his list and made some kind of plan in his head that what would be a best order to do everything. He hoped that he would get some time to read and take a walk, maybe after aunt got back. At least he would be busy and could think about the clothing and the money problem while working.

“And freak, if there is any leftovers I will leave it to fridge. You will need to eat it cold; I can’t have you using a stove alone, God knows you’ll burn down the whole house. Go now.”

Harry went to get his shoes. It was best to start with the snow since the family still home they wouldn’t want him to start making noise, even if it was him cleaning. His aunt wanted him to melt the snow of make it disappear what didn’t sound too realistic so for a minute he just stood by the door staring at the yard. The snowdrift was almost high as Harry so he really wished that he could just melt it somehow, starting to shovel something that was most likely heavy and seemed endless was not a happy thought. Also there was the fact that he would have to chunk the snow to someone else’s yarn or walk with it around 400 meter to ditch were it was more save to throw. Maybe Mrs. Felling wasn’t home and wouldn’t notice the grown amount if he putted somehow symmetric. That would still take too much time and would be possibly impossible. So he went to the shed and digged the shovel out of the pile of crab. It itself was heavy. Harry was really small, so holding a shovel that’s handling was bit taller than him wasn’t the easiest thing to do. Even being really petit, Harry was still as tall as others his age, but being skinny made him fragile. It didn’t help that some people thought he was a girl.

Harry had a beautiful face with high cheekbones and tiny but sharp nose. His skin was really white that made his green eyes look even more green and other way around. But the hair did most of the job. It was past his shoulders, shiny but shaggy, deep black. He had these pianist fingers, long and thin and Harry did hope that maybe he could put those fingers in use and play the piano someday. He adored Tchaikovsky and Debussy, even more than books. It was like falling into a dream when he listen the Valse Sentimentale.

After getting the shovel and back to the front yard the sight was all wrong. He was pretty sure that when he left to get the shovel all was covered in snow but now. Now it was almost like spring, there was no snow at all. The trees were green what was impossible since it was so cold that they should be dead and the ground was dry and lawn was green. It didn’t make any sense, so Harry dropped the shovel and his jaw. It wasn’t a first that weird thing happened but this wasn’t just weird, it was a complete marvel.

It was a miracle and it couldn’t be real. Had he fallen into sleep? No. It was real. Could he wish some other miracles to happen? It would make things so much easier

He tried to wish his clothes to get fixed. Nothing happened. His shoes, maybe. Nothing, again.

So he couldn’t wish it. Had he done something that gave him a gift? Had he gotten in favor with God?

It didn’t matter, it had happened and most likely wouldn’t happen again or not when he knew at least. It was all too bizarre to handle, he needed to research of miracles, wishes, shooting stars, blowing an eyelash, God. Everything that could grant him.

But right now he needed to go to sit in shed and wait the family to leave so he could too all the other chores, if they still needed to be done. He couldn’t wait her aunt to see the yard, she would be thrilled, and maybe he would even get to eat some dinner at the table. That would really be something. He didn’t mind eating alone like he didn’t mind doing everything alone but he had never in his life sat there so he did wonder what was it like. Was it different that ground or park bench? The sofa was also a complete stranger to him, he was too dirty to sit there, and he would ruin it according to aunt Petunia. It was illicit for him to touch any of the furniture if it was not for cleaning, cooking or making his uncle a drink.

He was allowed to shower everyday but he was still too dirty, he washed his hands every time he was about to touch anything but still too dirty. Harry didn’t know why but it just was so why ask questions. In that house questions were really bad. They would always lead to punishments, burns, no food, locked in his closet for days or staying out for night. If he wanted to know something he would find it out on his own, from book or newspaper. He was smart and could do it on his own; he had done everything on his own since he could stand by the stove and fry the bacon or put something into oven. So why should he start asking help now.

There was Mrs. Figg thought, old cat lady down the street. Harry was sometimes left with her if the Dursley's left for bit longer time. She would always want to help Harry, stuff him with food and loan him books. Harry was of course grateful but he would gladly still stay away. The woman was loony and didn’t really know anything no matter how much she was telling about the resent news or history, 90% of her telling where completely wrong. So there was no reason to really listen, Harry would just drink his coffee or tea, eat some biscuits and let the old barmy women ramble along.

*

After the Dursley’s had left Harry had vacuumed the house and putted all the Dudley’s toys in order, by type and size like Petunia liked them to be, who knows why, they were toys after all. The laundry was in the machine and he had gathered the china and silver to the table so he could polish them. He wouldn’t sit on the table but stand by it while keeping aunt Petunias precious goods on her precious table. So it was the polishing and the ironing what was left, well he did need to empty the laundry machine but he didn’t think that as a thing really. The clock was only half three so there was plenty of time. Enough time to get the leftover half eaten muffin and scramble eggs out of the fridge and eat. Like aunt had told him, he ate it cold but it was still tasty, he was good at cooking, especially with seasoning. It was kind of soothing to do even thought it was an order and under pressure. But more aunt Petunia teached him more he felt proud of himself. Petunias teaching method was to yell Harry what to do and smack him when it went wrong, but she did give an almost praise when he did well.

He had started at age 3 by first watching her and at four doing some simple things like porridge and stews himself with her standing next. Now he was already doing steaks by himself and Petunia wanted him to learn to do some fancy French cuisine and healthy dishes that would look and taste like they were full of sugar but actually not. Apparently Petunia wasn’t happy with not eating thing and her husband wanted to see her eat so disguising the food into something Uncle Vernon would eat was her devious plan. She could then eat all she wanted but still keep her skimpy look.

After eating Harry took the lean laundry upstairs and started to put them on their places. Petunias dresses and Vernon’s fancier clothes had their own special section on the closet when everyday clothes went just to the drawers. Putting the socks on the sock drawer, what a shock, Harry came across a tied rolls of money, several of them. He couldn’t help but stare them in wonder, how much was in one roll or how much in total? It did seem much to him, he never had any money of his own. He never bought any candy with pocket money like Dudley; he never even went to candy store.

He was so tempted to take some. He never had done anything wrong on purpose Most of the times the things he was accused of were done by Dudley or just somehow happened without his control. But this, this was his idea, his temptation, his change. He wanted it so bad, just having it, not even using it. He of course would use it. He would buy shoes and coat and cakes. First two he would have to hide but not being cold sounded amazing. He reached for one of the rolls and grabbed it, soon as he touched it he felt really anxious and just stood still. He couldn’t put it back anymore; he just really hoped that they wouldn’t notice it gone. Harry stuffed the money in his pocket and continued with his work. He still wanted to read after the chores were done so he needed to hurry, he could count the money then.

It didn’t take too long to get china and silvers ready or doing the ironing. When everything was pretty much shining and in aunt Petunias standards, Harry took his leave to his old own cupboard. It was best place to be for him when he wanted peace and quiet, the placement also was good because he would hear when the family would come back. He was back at reading Mein Kampf.

_“Overpowered by stormy enthusiasm, I fell down on my knees and thanked Heaven from an overflowing heart for granting me the good fortune of being permitted to live at this time ... There now began the greatest and most unforgettable time of my earthly existence.”_

_― Adolf Hitler, Mein Kampf_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also I just want to say that it won't be a last time that I use quotes from people like Hitler and also from different books because it is and will be part of this story and the original idea I had with it so if anyone feels uncomfortable with this now is the time to turn around. I don't want to offend anyone with them.


	3. “It's still magic even if you know how it's done.”  ― Terry Pratchett, A Hat Full of Sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the man watching over Harry makes himself visible and takes Harry away, things get different. Politics, Bratva and social events comes to be everyday thing in the magical world of Russia. When the Golden boy is needed he isn’t so golden anymore and has managed to charm the enemies of Great Britain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the kudos and comments!
> 
> All the warnings can be found in the tags. If for some reason they change I will let you guys know about it.

With the 200£ Harry had stolen from his uncle he had gotten a nice warm wool coat, some sort of leather shoes, he didn’t really know what they were called or even if they were real leather, simple white button up shirt and black slacks. He hadn’t used more than 50£ on all of them together, getting them from second hand store after all. Still they were nice; they fitted and were clean and whole. So he still had plenty of money left to get some food at the coffee shop where he was heading to and he could even safe some.

He had left the house on dawn already, Petunia wanted to do all cooking herself and for Harry fortune she kicked him out bright and early. He had walked around the shops and streets, mostly just looking the windows. He had changed into his new clothes at public bathroom and put his old ones into the shopping bag as he couldn’t go back home in the new ones. He wasn’t supposed to have any money. It was still nice to even wear them just outside. Half hour earlier than needed he was front of the Weston’s wondering if he should go in or not. He didn’t know if it was rude even to be this early, but it couldn’t be worse than being late? And how his company would know that he was early?

So he went in and it was even more magnificent that he would have imaged. So bright and white, the counter was full of all kind of desserts. There was at least twelve different cakes, whole cakes. Even the coffee menu was crazy, what in the world was Mocha Frappuccino.

“What can I get you dear?” The waitress was an older women, maybe the owner. Her uniform and like other waitresses at the Weston’s was very vintage looking, black&white with lots of ruffles, bit disturbing really.

“I would like a Peppermint hot chocolate, piece of double chocolate and raspberry cream cake and a ham bagel with chips. Please”

The waitress was staring at him with huge eyes, looking up and down on him. Was this boy serious? He was so tiny, how in earth would this little thing eat all of that? The fingers boy was holding his money were bony, like he hadn’t eaten in days and the eyes when he had looked at the cakes. She suddenly felt sorry for him. But this amount of food to body like that would knock the kid out and straight to head in a toilet situation.

“Are you sure honey? That’s a quite a lot of sugar and calories. You’ll be sick”

The boy looked at him at some kind of anxious and same time frustrated look. Why would he order something he didn’t want, was this lady stupid. Harry had never had a cake in his life or a hot chocolate, and he was pretty sure he wasn’t doing too good hiding the fact ether so what the hell was this lady telling him about being sick. It wouldn’t matter if he got sick, he would got sick because he ate and that a great reason to be sick. So Harry stood up straight, looked right into the waitresses eyes with furious confidence and said.

“Yes, ma’am. I am sure, can I pay now”

Harry took place in a table near window but far away from the cashier, he didn’t want to see the looks on the woman’s face. He knew she would be staring. He started with the bagel, tasting it carefully, letting the hot chocolate cool down a bit. He wasn’t sure if he liked the ham. The bread was good but the meat was weird to his taste. He had only eaten a breakfast bacon that was all salt and fat, nothing else, that he usually skipped or a piece of meatloaf that was tasteless because it was days old so he never thought those to be meat. But this was fresh and it tasted like meat. Like an animal and for some reason that made him feel uncomfortable and sick.

He never thought about the fact that meat was an animal, and now it was making his mind go mad. He’s mouth too since it was tasting the disgusting thing. He liked animals, they were more worthy of life than humans. They were honest and united with nature, they only did what was in nature of them. People called lions and tigers monsters for killing smaller animals, but that was the nature, they were not to blame. When human killed, it was for use or pleasure. He was being hypocrite right now since he wasn’t exactly against killing or wars or any sort of violence. He had his own taste of that. But humans had their way of defense against other species too. Animals only had a defense against animals. He was failing.

Harry wasn’t doing so good at reasoning to himself why the animals were better, with every sentence in his mind he trapped himself. The truth was that humans were animals, they both killed, they both lied and told the truth. They both were monsters by nature. Still Harry hold animals more high and wished he was one, so right now he felt more cannibal than he would have if he ate a human.

Harry was a child and his mind would ramble more than a normal child brain would, but it was still a child brain. He had hard time understanding things sometimes and hard time to reason things too. His picture of monster wasn’t a killer or someone who tortured for one. His picture was his uncle. It was frustrating not being able to hate the man he saw that way. The man that sometimes would simply smack him but other times have some private “fun” with Harry that he was absolutely forbid to talk about. His worst scars were in places that only his uncle had seen beside Harry himself, after he turned four. He wished that Vernon wouldn’t see them again. He also wish that he would know how to hate. It was a weird wish on his behalf but he was a weird boy. A freak.

“You think too hard”

It was him, he was here and had even sat front of Harry without him noticing. Was time that much already?

How had he missed it? Same reason he was missing it now, he was thinking too hard.

“I know I do, sir” Harry admitted, it was so oblivious that what would be the point denying. “Can I please have your name now”

Harry had his eyes on the man so tight that some could think they would fall out. He was trying to make a note on every detail in the man. It was his mystery man right here front of him, so close and this time Harry wasn’t freezing his toes of so he could actually enjoy the view. Why is he enjoying the view? Harry didn’t know, but still he was. It made his hands tickle and his mind tried to wonder off but he was making it to stay put. Harry needed a reason, a good one for once. He would prefer that it wasn’t one that he made up this time.

“My name is Antonin Dolohov”

His voice was harsh, his accent was beautiful and his face had no emotions at all when he spoke. For Harry it was really amazing. He knew the mans name, he knew his name and it was beautiful name. Like the man itself in Harrys eyes, he was strong and cruel, caring but looked like he was ready to drop all and snap someones neck. It was everything Harry wanted to be. He wanted to be strong and have knowledge that was shining out of Antonins face. He wanted to have strength to be harsh and think about nothing but himself, take control. Just go to park in broad day light because he said to his uncle that he would. It was a big dream in small scale.

“I like your name Mr. Dolohov. Did you not order anything?”

Antonin smiled in away at least, it was more a smirk if anything. He had imaged sitting there next to this boy and talking to him. He had been so frustrated just lurking in the shadows and trying to help, getting attached without even being close. But now here he was and the funny little boy was just as he thought he was. Polite, lost in his thoughts and looking at him like he was some kind of a miracle. It was just a wonder. How had he manage to wait five years to get closer. Basically this boy had nothing, sure he had a roof and food and family, but speaking realistically the boy had nothing. The roof was leaking or full of insects, the food was there only occasionally and it was barely nothing or ruined somehow. And the family, he wouldn’t even think about it. Antonin would be the boys family in time. That was all he needed to think about that.

“Thank you Harry, that is very kind. And I did order a coffee but they will bring it over. I see you found yourself some new clothes, that is very good. I will be very disappointed if you get caught”

Harry choked a bit into his hot chocolate, he hadn’t expected that. Yes, he had required the clothes out of the mans suggestion but was he also suggestion that he knew how he had done it? Did he look like thief?

“I do know how you got the clothes and no you do not look like a thief, right now more like a deer in headlights”

That was it! How was the man doing it, knowing what he was thinking, when he was suppose to be home? He hadn’t said anything. Or had he? He didn’t know anymore, Harry did have a think for forgetting the time and getting lost in his head so maybe he spoke aloud or kept on with the conversation without knowing it. But responding to someone without knowledge was even more idiotic thing to think about. He was too confused right now. He needed a book or music for a minute. He needed to get away from his own head because it was going nuts with its conspiracy theories. He was too young to have conspiracy theories, he shouldn’t even know what that was, but he did. Maybe he was too smart. Maybe that’s why he could leak his thoughts and doings without knowing.

Or.

Maybe just or it wasn’t Harry at all.

Maybe it was him, Antonin.

Maybe he was in his head, reading his thought and running around.

But that wasn’t a thing someone could do. Right?

“I’m sorry Harry but the last one is right. I know what you think because I can see into your mind. But about the times you need to be home I know because I have watched you ever since you moved into that dreadful house with those disgusting people. I have no need to lie to you now that you are here. I would have already told you at the park but you were too gone then.”

Now Antonin was smiling and it wasn’t a cruel or sarcastic smile, it was pure and it was sincere. It was all part of his plan. The boy would be so confused at first that he couldn’t get rid of him even if he wanted. Harry would have so many questions and so many things he would want to know that there would be no change that the boy would deny him. It was all going to work out just fine. But while the boy gathered his thoughts and made a list of his questions somewhere deep in his mind, Antonin really needed a cup of coffee.

Where the hell was that waitress?

*

“It’s called Legilimency, magic used to enter somebodys mind. It can be used to simple as reading thoughts to creating false memories. It is very difficult to master, takes years of learning and patience to even handle a part of it. Before you can enter someone elses mind you need to know and protect your own, that is called Occlumency, if you don’t you can easily get lost and locked away in your victims head. Learning occlumency will also give you a great talent of meditation and sanctuary. It’s about creating your own world with walls and barriers as defense in your mind. It helps against the legilimency attacks as well as knowing yourself and focusing your energy to your next goal.”

It was so fascinating, all of it. He had only asked about how did the mind reading thing work and Antonin had been speaking for five minutes already, just about it. All these words he never heard of made him think that this was not all. He said that it’s magic, so it can’t be just about reading minds and protecting yours, about meditating. It must be about something bigger. Like those things that made him a freak? Was Antonin a freak too? Or did they just have their own few freaky talents and his was crowing hair and making snow disappear and Antonin was about mind control. That would be just really unfair. Who would want to make snow go away if they could go around poking in peoples heads. And changing their memories, thoughts?

Oh, what could he do with that. He’s rambling ideas were stopped as Antonin started to speak again. In his face was a knowing look, arrogant one. Like he had won something.

“I’m sure you could learn occlumency in few years even maybe, you get so lost in your head that I don’t see why you can’t go deeper. Most don’t start learning till late teens or even before middle age but then they have no patience to just sit down and clear everything. It will be challenge, you think so much that not thinking will take time and might even be agonizing, but you already know your head and have your sanctuary in there. We will try”

“You mean I can learn it? This magic you call occlumency, it’s not just something you can do? Can you too make snow go away or grow your hair? Have your wounds ever healed more fast than normal? Have you ever forgotten that you went somewhere? Are you a freak too?”

That’s when Antonins face turned upside down and that stone face Russian came out. He was white as a sheet and he clutched his jaws together. Harry was sure he could see blood coming out of the mans fist that he had closed. Harry got scared, the man was furious. He was fuming and more.

Antonin had heard Harry been called many times and he had hear Harry calling himself that too and everytime it made him more angry, but hearing it now was too much. Harry asking if he was a freak too was too much. He was ready to kill some muggles. 

“If someone is a freak that would be people like your aunt and uncle, muggles” Antonins voice was harsh and cold. He wanted Harry to understand how serious it was to remember this. Harry should never even hear that word again, unless it was directed to something worthless as a muggle. Maybe be a mudblood would do too. They were freak of nature after all, no one really knew how “species” like mudblood existed.

“What is a muggle?” Harrys eyes were big and full of questions, curiosity. Harry was so rarely able to ask questions and now he was almost exploding of the amount he had them and the ability to say them aloud. He could ask and he could get answers. It was a wonder to him.

“Muggle is a boring creature that has no ability to do magic. They are mostly worthless, some can be used for jobs that are below us. It is forbidden to muggles know about us because they are jealous, intolerant, cruel and would use us. Just like your aunt and uncle are doing. Sometimes muggles breed a child that has magic and those children experience often great deal of abuse. Those children like no child deserves abuse but they don’t belong in our world ether, they are dirty and tainted” More Antonin spoke, thicker he accent got. You actually needed to listen very carefully because otherwise you could think that he was speaking Russian. And Harry certainly didn’t know any Russian. 

It was all so much. There was magic and people who could do magic and he was one. Antonin said he wasn’t a freak but could Antonin lie. He didn’t sound like a liar. But he was saying things that made no sense to him and used so many words Harry didn’t know so it was hard to understand. According to Antonin Harrys family members were the freaks and they even had a own word for it. A muggle. It was a funny word, he wondered what was an origin to that word, it couldn’t be english and didn’t sound french ether. 

“Does my uncle and aunt know about magic? Is that why they treat me like that then?” If he wasn’t a freak then his family had to had another reason for him being something else to them. Had they always knew he was different or had they figured it from Harrys accidents? 

“Yes Harry, they know. They know because of your parents. Your mother was one of those children born to a muggle family and your aunt didn’t like it because your mother was brilliant in everyones eyes and your aunt was left to shadows. In your aunts eyes your mother was not special but a freak and your uncle loves everything that is in his normal standard and you are not. You father other hand came from ancient family of wizard and witches so there was no chance that you wouldn’t be like them” More Antonin explained more confusing it got to Harry. He obliviously didn’t know anything. He had always thought that he was smart for his age and now he felt stupid. If his father was something called wizard and had a full family of magic but his mother was from muggles, that made her blood tainted in Antonins words. Did that mean Harry was also dirty or did his fathers blood cure that somehow? He didn’t dare to ask.

He still felt like a freak no matter what Antonin said and if now also his blood was bad what would it make him. Did he have a future and where? Could he ever belong with those who Antonin speak with blood like that if his mother didn’t? He couldn’t belong with these muggles ether. But Harrys mother had made it to belong with them. She had married with someone who had right kind of blood so she couldn’t have been a complete outcast.

Or did she lie her way in? Maybe used magic to do it? 

“It makes you a half-blood, a son of a pureblood and mudblood. If you someday marry a pureblood your children would be called a first generation purebloods. You could save your family name and pride, Harry. Or you can destroy it completely by making the same mistakes your father did. But you are a child, all you need to do right now is to be that and learn.”

“How do I know you don’t just lie to me?” Harry had his doubts. He wanted to believe with all his heart, body and soul but he was Harry and in Harrys nature it was good to be suspicious of everything. 

_“If you tell the truth, you don’t have to remember anything,_ said one Mark Twain once. I’m sure you have heard of him” 


	4. Behind The Scenes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the man watching over Harry makes himself visible and takes Harry away, things get different. Politics, Bratva and social events comes to be everyday thing in the magical world of Russia. When the Golden boy is needed he isn’t so golden anymore and has managed to charm the enemies of Great Britain.

Petunia Dursley was good at making things look good, it was her job to do so. Her husband was an important man in his job and was hoping to get a promotion, the company was very fond of traditional picture of life and family. Also the owner was bit too religious to Petunia liking, not that Petunia was atheist, but she had a firm believe that God wouldn’t help her to achieve her goals. Keeping things certain way wasn’t just for Mr. Dursleys but to Petunia herself as well. She was part of the community, chairman in Surreys garden association, winner of most beautiful rose for three years in a row and known for her tea parties. To keep all that she had to make sure that certain standards came to exist and even better to be exceed.

Those standards included her house and beautiful yard, that she had picked out every flower very carefully. She knew the exact time that for those flowers to die and would always take them off before they turned to ugly. She absolutely hated everything ugly, more than she hated being wrong and little less than she hated everything freakish. Every house in the street, like hers, was colored in certain shade of white, every fence was exact same high and every lawn was cut exactly to 1 inch. There was nothing worse than a neighbor coming over and noticing that your lawn was over grown or your fence was too small. Other than those it was all up to Petunia to make her garden the most beautiful.

Then there was the fact of the family appearance. It was bit more tricky situation because of her ungrateful nephew. Her perfect family of three was a picture in frames over the fireplace, she, her husband and their absolutely perfect round faced son. But they weren’t only ones in the house. There was the boy. The boy who was image of freak and devil. Someone could have said that Petunia was lucky because Harry was always doing all the housework and keeping the lawn right, but to Petunia it was a real pain. She had to keep close eye on the boy so he wouldn’t destroy all. He had a tendency of doing freaky things and that was just terrible.

But now Petunia had started to notice things about the boy and it was making her very uncomfortable. It was like he was happy what was completely insane. The boy had no right to be happy, even Petunia wasn’t happy. Smiling was her job, not eating was her job, hosting and winning garden roses was her job, but she was not happy so there was no way that the worthless piece of a nephew had a right to be happy. Still there he was suddenly smiling and humming some ridiculous song, dancing around while cleaning. It was absurd.

In her life Petunia hadn’t seen a real smile on that boys face, smile yes but one of those that she had. A polite one, dying from the inside kind. It was not fair. Why would the boy bee happy. And it wasn’t all, she had noticed that lately there had been more freaky things happening around the boy. She was scared of what would come next. She had years left of him in her house. Or maybe she should just get rid of him while she could, but who would do all the work then. She wasn’t build to do any dishes or touching dirty laundry, it would ruin her nails and dry her skin. Absolutely horrifying idea.

*

Harry was aware that his behavior had got his aunts eye but he had no desire to care right now. It had been a week when he had seen Antonin, his mystery man and had been informed about complete different world that was waiting for him. He was giddy about it. Antonin had told him all kind of things, that there was a minister and schools, streets hidden in London. And that the magic didn’t seem to have much of a limits, at least not in a mind of a child, whose imagination couldn’t go to that point that was a breaking point. Antonin had told him few things that he could try to learn, to control his action and not just wait for a “miracle help”. One was a to open locked things, alohomora, he hadn’t gotten it right but still even trying to learn was making him feel all sort of things. He was still doing his regular everyday chords but he hadn’t touched his book for few days. Harry had an another fantasy that didn’t come from a book and this time it was something that could be a real life fantasy come true thing. He needed to know more and more about that fantasy. It was like his skin was on fire with all that excitement of knowledge he was craving for. Antonin had said that he would be seeing Harry again soon but he had business in Moscow so he would be gone for now. It was weird.

Antonin had been very tense when he said that he wouldn’t be around. Like there was something wrong with it. Harry did miss him in an odd way of only meeting the man few times but was there something that Antonin hadn’t told him. Harry wondered that how long had Antonin been around? He had said something about looking out for him but in what scale had that been? How much did Antonin actually know about Harrys so called home life?

His thoughts were wandering again, he was suppose to learn how to control them. Somehow stop thinking and fall into some sort of a trance to protect his mind. That was a first thing Antonin told Harry to learn. Stop thinking. But how do you just stop thinking. Harry always thought, he thought so much that he had migraines, he fought with himself inside his head everyday and had almost a political debates. As much as six years old could be political or take place in debates.

He had tried. Harry had sit in his dark cupboard in his perfect silence with his spiders and done everything that some book had said meditation is. He had sat in comfortable position, back straight against the wall and hands in his lap. His were closed and he had imagined himself in somewhere safe and peaceful. That was the first problem, the safe place he had was exactly the spot he had been in so there wasn’t much to imagine. When there wasn’t anything to imagine he couldn’t empty everything else, there was no mental stage where there was nothing but him. There was just him and everything else. So he thought. He thought about the fact that he would like to be vegan, he thought about the fact that there was so much he needed to learn, he thought that he wanted to see Antonin and he wanted the stranger to take him away. He didn’t trust the man, he didn’t trust anyone but still he would go with him if given a chance. So he needed to learn _this,_ the first part of occlumency so Antonin would be happy and give him maybe that chance.

*

It was extremely cold at Moscow.

Antonin was heading toward a meeting near the Red Square, the actual place of meeting was hidden from the muggles, between two bank buildings. It was a huge brick building with gold decoration and heavy guards near every exit. What would be odd to every wizard from a different country, was the fact that the guards were armed with muggle weapons. But since Russia was quite often different from others they have also come to conclusion that even thought muggles and mudbloods were ultimate scum, there still could be some use to them and their inventions. Some muggle loving activist called this slavery. The Bratva, what was important part of the organizing the wizards at Russia had multiple factories and offices that provided guns and weapon production for them, they had muggles on the streets selling drugs, both wizard and muggle. The muggles didn’t know who they worked for and they were charmed to not be able to say where they worked and what did they do. Bratva considered that this gave them an advance against all the other wizard communities and other organizations. 

Antonin was meeting a man who he considered close family, but who also was more importantly his boss. Antonin himself was a very important man and help up high, he only answered to this one man, when many others answered to many middle men. Antonin himself was a in a way one of those middle men but none would call him that since he was so high up in the family.

“Antonin, priyatno videt', moy dorogoy drug. Kak vy?” A man with heavy scarring on his face and grayish black hair falling down his shoulders was sitting in prestigious room and at big leather chair. The room was full of gold décor, black leather and red walls. There was really little light and lot of cigar smoke surrounding The Bosses table. The man was wearing very expensive suit, much like Antonins, old fashioned like. “Vasil, I have missed you my friend” Antonin was standing straight as always, looking like he owned the world, but with extreme respect for the man front of him. Antonin considered Vasil as his father, he practically raised him as his father died when Antonin was very young. Vasil himself haven’t been that old himself at the time and then his own father had been in the position that Vasil now was. Vasil also himself thought of very fatherly like of Antonin but didn’t let that disturb any business decisions. For few years now most of that business had been about Harry Potter. Of course Antonin did deal with other things for his organization, mainly with those who they had business in UK, taking his opportunity being in London already. “How is our favorite prodigy doing? You approached him finally?” Antonin sat down and took the offered cigar, he smoked it slowly before answering Vasils question. “Yes, I met him. He is different from what would be expected even with close supervising. He is severly abused, but doesn’t still seem to have any emotions of it. I am certain that he still does have emotions just not understanding of them or ability to show them but under surprised situations. When relieved to him about being wizard, he was exited and gave a expression of weight being lifted from his shoulders. He himself seems to think that he doesn’t hate anything but from I can see he hates humans. It is an understatement to say that that would not be targeted toward muggles. He thinks too much, is too polite for his own good and is missing the logic of his own thoughts. He is also like an open book and same time good actor. He easily falls into play of being a servant of his relatives but doesn’t hide the aristocratic trades and lets people see he is better than those around him.” Antonin had a little break of his speech, to smoke more and take the glass of vodka that had been brought to him few seconds ago. It was different to talk about Harry now that he had met the boy. When he had reported about well being of him by just watching the boy it was lot harder. It had only been about Harry being safe and everytime he saw that Harry was hurt, he had only power to make sure there was no several damages and try to make it not happen again which seemed to always fail. Now he could actually impact Harry himself, make him stronger. So speaking now meant that it was all going to right direction and soon Harry would be ready to leave the muggles. “Harry has shown great deal of power but doesn’t know how to control it. He’s mind is the biggest problem. He is so used to escaping into it that he has no control of when and how he does it. He doesn’t have occlumency shields or a dreamscape, more like a hurricane of thoughts. He does lot of accidental magic what is good. I have tasked him to learn empty his mind what I know will be really hard for him but he has great deal of motivation. I think that he has to be able control his head before he can control any other of his actions.” 

Antonin knew his heart was going soft by every second and word he kept talking. He was still a cruel and powerful man, but even they could have a weakness and he had just realized what his was. It did not mean a bad thing, his weakness was going to be the strongest thing he had as long as he could have anything to do about it.

Vasil was feeling old. Every six months he had asked his son in everything but blood come and tell him about Harry, the boy he had been interested ever since he had heard a rumor about false prophesy came forward to him. In his youth he came across a man with huge amount of motivation of remaking UK. Vasil had very little care for the country but he had been impressed. But the support that man, Tom Riddle had gotten hadn’t been the best and unfortunately some could say that he went crazy. Tom, Vasil had first met would have never believed or acted on any so called prophesy no matter, it would have been made someone who was complete fraud or someone who actually mattered. But it happened, man also known as Voldemort did what he absolutely should not have done and made a great mistake.

Vasil wanted to know why had Harry been put up as the target for the crazy man he once knew. He wanted to know what was so special about him and why would he still just get dumped on muggles doorstep after being made into some sort of a hero. In these few years Vasil had been come to see that there indeed was something special about him. But as well as Antonin, even though Vasil never met or even seen Harry, he have come to care for that scrawny aristocratic half-blood. He had a need to keep that boy safe and since Vasil himself was terribly bad man, his ways of keeping someone safe wasn’t what everyone else would think. He wasn’t going to cuddle him. He was going to teach him, train him, shape him, into a man that could defend himself. Vasil of course would be getting something too, having someone who would be as strong as Harry on his side would give Vasil great deal of power and advance. There was no need to deny that, more likely would be that he would brag about it. Having “the boy who lived” in his pocket.

“Khorosho.” It was all needed to be said at that point.

*

There was a dinner party that night for those who were important when it came to organization and the family. Most of the people were Russian wizards with their wifes or mistresses, business men who owned money or favors to Vasil or government representatives with their own agendas. But also from other countries who made deals with Vasil, like Finland.

The party was held at Vasils Manor, Gogrikov Manor more knowingly, just outside of Moscow, it was very private state, well guarded and very beautiful. It contained the main building what was huge, more castle like and dark from outside. It was surrounded by well taken care of garden and small forest. Separate building for servants, human and house-elves and stables near little lake and high walls surrounding the state. The Manor was even more magnificent from inside, it was full of light coming from big windows and from enchanted candles in huge golden chandeliers. There was lot more gold around with neutral colors. Everything was shiny and polished, except at the private quoters. The bedrooms were mostly dark and more intimate, decorated speacily for those staying in them. Vasils study was made to imitate those he hosted in there.

The party had started from the dining room, there had been a toast where Vasil personally welcomed everyone to his home and asked them to enjoy the evening. The human servants had carried seven different dishes in one by one. It was ugly and uncivilized to use house-elves so Vasil had the elves do the work where they would not be seen. After the dinner they had moved to the ballroom where it was possible to dance, enjoy drinks and discuss with the other guests and the host. Antonin was considered as a host also since he was living at the manor when not staying at England. He knew about everything that was going on with The Bratva since being the second in command.

“Mister Dolohov, it is good to see you. You haven’t been attending to these parties for a while, we have been worried that you are no longer with us.” It was a woman talking to him, pretty one, but not beautiful. She was trashy, wearing unproper and cheap dress that barely covered her upper body. Antonin couldn’t remember her name but was sure that she was someones whore.

It wasn’t unusual that business men that were not that much in public eye would bring escorts or long term mistresses along with them instead of their wives. Antonin didn’t understand the reason. He had never married, but if he had he would have enough respect for that woman than flaunt in everyones eyes that he was cheating. It would be private if there was a need for other woman or man in that relationship. Antonin did have relationships but he liked to keep them short and out of everyones knowledge. The relationships were mostly for entertainment for him, he had enough standing socially and out of public eye to need anyone to stand beside him. Vasil, his father like figure had been married for few years but his wife had been killed in crossfire so he hadn’t wanted to get married again to feel that loss. He of course did have some activity in bedroom these day, even getting old but never a woman and never anyone he would get attached to.

“Yes, miss. I have had business in England. Who are you here again, miss?” Antonin didn’t let any of his feelings been show in his face but since he was sure that the woman was some stupid little cunt he didn’t care that he sounded rude.

And the woman clearly did understand the rudeness in Antonins voice since her eyes turned cold in a second. She huffed and stood up more straight like she was proud of her messy look and the fact she was there. It seemed that she had thought that she had been really smart saying something about Antonins absent, maybe even get him of guard but it obliviously hadn’t worked and now she was the one that had lost her cool. Her badly faked Russian accent was falling apart when she continued talking. So she was with someone from Finland perhaps? There wasn’t many actually important people in there, mostly drug dealers and poor politicians always loaning more money.

“Well, Mister Dolohov. I happen to be here with Lord Nott, my name is Natalie Avery. It is nice to hear that you have been enjoying my dear home country, but is shame to miss all the action here. I have been attending these little caterings for while now and noticed that Lord Gogrikov hadn’t been mentioning you that often anymore. It would be such a shame if my dear friend Lord Nott would have to take on your slack”

Yes, she really was stupid.

“Miss Avery, I would advice for you to be quiet now for your sake and your companions sake. It is not unusual to someone go missing after these caterings as you said. Good by now.”

Antonin was sure that this would not be only time running into Miss Avery and he would be definitely seeing Nott later too. English Death Eaters weren’t the smartest people in the world, they had tendencies to switch masters in wind when something didn’t go as planned. So they weren’t exactly trusted and Antonin didn’t like dealing with them, but it was necessary, since they deeded The Dark Lord when he would return.

_“You are a manipulator. I like to think of myself more as an outcome engineer.”_

_J.R. Ward_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know any Russian so everything is translated by Google Translate.


	5. Pretty Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the man watching over Harry makes himself visible and takes Harry away, things get different. Politics, Bratva and social events comes to be everyday thing in the magical world of Russia. When the Golden boy is needed he isn’t so golden anymore and has managed to charm the enemies of Great Britain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first chapter that will have serious violence in it including rape of a child. This is the last time I am writing an individual warning before the chapter because all the warnings are already posted and can be find in 'warnings' and in 'tags'. You are reading this fic by your own choice.

It had been a month since he has seen Antonin and it made him nervous. What if he had just forgotten him and found some other boy to help. It wasn’t like him to worry and get clingy but there was something special about that man that made Harry craving for his attention. It also made him sick to think how much he was starting to depend on that attention that he had only gotten few times. He did not need anyone, especially humans, so why did he feel this way. Why was he worried and desperate? He had learned the alohomora spell and manage to sneak out few times after being locked up in the cupboard. He gotten more to eat that way, he also stole some more money, but not from his relatives, that would have been stupid, not that it was wise to break into Mrs. Figgs house and rob her. He kept the money inside his pillowcase. If Antonin didn’t show up before Easter holidays, he was just going to run away. What difference did it really make to be locked inside of house and being starved or be roaming around London and being starved. He could possibly get food easier by stealing it or stealing money to buy it that from his aunt or uncle.

Things had gone worse since Antonin left. In these days he didn’t have to do many chores but the reason was that his uncle had taken liking to beating him up so badly that he simply couldn’t do the chores. His arms were broken, his face was bruised and his back was full of cuts. In the days he would just lie in his cupboard and into night he would spell his way out to eat, to steal whatever his arms would let him to do, not much that was. It didn’t hurt that much, he was sure his magic had something to do with that, but still with broken bones it was hard to use his hands and with his face looking like it did it wasn’t good idea to let himself to be seen.

Learning to meditate like Antonin had wished him to do was waisted. Now more than ever he could not stop thinking, it was his escape, to think, to fantasy and draw his plans. It protected him just not the way Antonin wanted.

How did magic work?

What was magic?

Where there different types of magic?

Could he escape?

Where would he go?

Could he just spell himself into London?

Could he hurt his uncle like he hurt him?

Could he kill him?

It didn’t stop, the thoughts. They became more and more violent, more demanding. He wanted to hurt his uncle, he hadn’t thought that before he had met Antonin and felt hope and real happiness first time. He had even planned how would he do it. First hurt, then kill. He would ask his birds to help him, he knew they listen. But what would happen after that? Would he be caught and sent to jail? What about his aunt and cousin, did they deserve to be hurt too? Should he hurt them too?

It didn’t matter, it would take a lot to even be able to do anything. He was so weak. He needed to be stronger, but how could he do that. Maybe he was able to get away from the cupboard but that was it. He could take a knife from kitchen maybe, but would he be even strong enough to sink that knife into his uncles gut. Most likely not. He was just so tired, so numb and he knew it would just get worse. His uncle wouldn’t stop now when he gotten the taste of his blood. He guessed it could be addictive, the violence, the feeling of power when you had someone in your complete mercy.

Harry thought that if he ever had a chance, he would get that addiction too. He knew it wasn’t a normal thought, but he also knew there was nothing normal about him. Antonin had said that he wasn’t a freak, but he hadn’t said anything about being normal. It was a good thing to accept of being something evil than trying to bury it. It would keep your mind just a little bit more ease.

Evil was a strange concept. Aunt Petunia thought also, that Harry was evil, spawn of Satan, she said. She thought that she was a proper woman, not saint or even kind, but in right and had a right to do the things she did. In Harrys eyes, those things were hurtful and what he had read, which he had done a lot before his uncle had made sure that there were no more books, the things his aunt and specially his uncle did were evil. So what was it really, evil?

***

He felt like every bone in his body had been broken. He knew for certain that atleast his legs were and there was blood coming out of his head and back. If it had been anyone elses he would think it as something beautiful. But now it again reminded him how small and weak he was. For first time he felt like he was dying. He just hoped that it would be quick, so the pain would go away and then his uncle would have a reason to stop.

Someone was dragging him by his hair, he didn’t know where, but he was quite sure that it was his uncles doing. Last thing he remembered was that they had been alone in the house and his uncle had been very drunk and angry, blaming Harry about it. Petunia played bridge once a month and stayed with her friend in London for the night. She never let Dudley stay home for those nights, knowing how her husband would get pissed, didn’t want her son to see it, so he would stay with Piers.

The pain was starting to go away and Harry wasn’t sure if it was a good thing, but it felt so much better, just being numb. Especialy when lately pain had been only thing to feel. Two months since Antonin left and now everything was just dull and blank.

Where was Antonin?

The man had said that soon he would be safe.

Lies.

Lies, lies, lies.

Why had he believed the man, it was so much easier when there was no hope to lose, but now he was losing everything. Every single feeling was falling out, not that he had many of them. His humanity was slipping away from his fingers also, but he wasn’t sure if that was such a bad thing. He already knew that he had no love for humans, no respect for life. It was still something that a six year old should not think about or even know how to think about.

There was something new thought, he thought. There was a slight of anger.

He came into consciousness, noticing he was lying on a bed. His uncle was top of him, trying to take of Harrys already ripped clothes. His blood run cold, but same time it burned. This was wrong.

He didn’t fully understand what was his uncle doing, but he knew it was wrong, that it went far beyond the beatings and the verbal abuse he was used to. He started to shake, when the mans cold and fat hands traveled trough his body.

Yes, he could definitely feel anger. But what use did it have?

He was powerless. All he could do was just lie there and hope that death would collect him before anything else would happen, but he knew he wouldn’t be that lucky. But still, his aunt kept telling him that he would go to hell, could that be better than this? He couldn’t imagen anything being worse than this. But again he was wrong.

His clothes were gone and his uncle had started to take off his own clothes. Harry shut his eyes tight, not wanting to see what would happen next. He also kept his mouth shut, usually that made things easier. The times he had screamed his uncle had just hit him harder, when he had stayed silent it had been over sooner. So it made sense to just keep quite and wait it to be over. It still wasn’t easy, whatever his uncle did hurt more than he had ever imagined, it was like he was being cut open in half, teared apart. It felt so wrong.

“Such a pretty boy, almost like a girl. This is your fault, you are making me to do this. Its not natural to boy look like that. You are a Freak!” his uncles voice was bittersweet, you could hear that he was drunk, but same time is was like he was trying to be seducing. Well it definitely wasn’t working. It made Harry even more angrier and desperate to escape. But he was so tired, and couldn’t really feel half of his body anymore, just some distance pain. He was disgusted and wanted to throw up.

Harry kept his eyes closed tightly. He didn’t believe in God but now he prayed. He would have crossed his hands if that had been possible, but his uncle was crushing his wrist to the bed, he was sure that he felt one of them snap few minutes ago.

“All of it is your fault. You dirty little girl.”

Why was his uncle calling him a girl?

“You’ll make such a pretty girl after this.”

Harry started to panic, his blood was on fire and his whole body started to burn. He had never been in so much pain it was like his whole body was teared in half. He opened his eyes and stared right into his uncles disgusting face. Antonin wouldn’t help him, he needed to safe himself. He would need to be strong. He kept staring what seemed to make his uncle even more angrier since the man punched Harry right into eye.

But Harry couldn’t really feel any pain anymore, he just smiled.

“What are you going to do uncle?” Harrys voice was small and shaky, but he kept his smile on, knowing that it would disturb his uncle. Harry felt the fire in his body increasing. It was just under his fingertips, just little more.

  
“What are you trying to achieve, uncle? Is Aunt Petunia not enough for you?”

Vernon hit Harry again, but this time something happened. The man screamed like he was the one being tortured. His hand looked burned. The fire was eating his flesh inch by inch and traveling to his neck and chest from his arm, like it was a life. Harry smiled even more brightly. He didn’t have any strength to move but he was going to enjoy this, watch his uncle to burn alive.

The smell of burning flesh was terrible, but the sight was more than beautiful. His uncle was turning black all over his body, loosing his hair and screaming his voice raw. The man looked so scared, terrified.

When the screaming finally had stopped, Vernon lied on the floor his body completely burned, dead as stone. Harry was still on the bed, he was unable to move but felt victorious the first time in his life. It still wasn’t over, his aunt and cousin would come home next day and find Vernon very much dead and himself looking very much guilty, even when there was no evidence expect the motive and the fact that he was there, he was sure that they would know he did it. He wasn’t sure what would happen then. He was quite young to go to jail and didn’t really know anything about the criminal justice to know what happened to underage murderers. Was there a special jail for six years olds?

He couldn’t really do anything so it was pointless to think about it, but when had he stopped thinking something.

Maybe he should just sleep and wait.

***

Screaming.

But this time it was different. It wasn’t from pain but of panic and desperation. He guessed that it meant his Aunt was back home. Should he open his eyes or pretend to sleep.

“Boy! What have you done?” Aunt Petunia was crying and Harry couldn’t help that to thing that she looked ugly when she cried. Her face got all twisted and neck stretched even more horse like.

“My husband. Is that my husband? You freak, you murderer.” She sounded scared, Harry thought.

“Mommy, where’s dad?” So Dudley was home too. Not that it was a surprise, Petunia must have picked him up, it wasn’t like her to let her precious son to walk few hundred meters.

“Honey, call the cops. Say that someone hurt your father and that someone is still in the house, hurry now.” Petunia spoke really fast, hurrying her son out of the room, still staring at her burned husband on the floor before turning her attention into Harry.

“You stay there!” Like Harry could have moved anyway, his bones where still broken. “You will pay for this, I know you will.”

Harry didn’t speak, he saw that it was best to be his quiet self and he really couldn’t even move yet, since it was still hurting like hell. Maybe the police would see how beaten he was and think that he was a victim too or see that it was self-defense. Or maybe there have been an outsider in the house who had done all this? Since when have six years old been able to burn their relatives alive while being almost beaten and raped to death?

He wondered how easily he would have welcomed the death if he hadn’t managed to murder his uncle. Murder. He really had murdered him, he really was a murder. It sounded funny in his head. He had always wondered if he would be one some day, and even more after he had met Antonin, but it still gave him some sort of surprise, especially the fact how little it bothered him. He didn’t really feel anything, he just was. He just lied there and wondered what would have it been like if he had died. He sang a poem in his head to pass a time, God Lay Dead In Heaven by Stephen Crane was something he hadn’t understanded before but now it made sense in very different way. He was an odd child. Too smart for his own good.

_“God lay dead in heaven;_   
_Angels sang the hymn of the end;_   
_Purple winds went moaning,_   
_Their wings drip-dripping_   
_With blood_   
_That fell upon the earth._   
_It, groaning thing,_   
_Turned black and sank._   
_Then from the far caverns_   
_Of dead sins_   
_Came monsters, livid with desire._   
_They fought,_   
_Wrangled over the world,_   
_A morsel._   
_But of all sadness this was sad —_   
_A woman’s arms tried to shield_   
_The head of a sleeping man_   
_From the jaws of the final beast.”_

It wasn’t a song, but he still sang it. It gave him peace even thought it was sad and depressive but still beautiful and amazing, it was amazing to finally understand it. To understand little more of himself. That had been the biggest problem, understanding his own thoughts and the way he acted, he had been like a stranger in his own body. He had just walked, read and gotten lost in his own head never really thinking what did it all meant.

Now it was much more clear. He was a wizard. He had magic. He was special. He could do anything, he could protect himself now on. He wouldn’t have to submit to anyone, he wouldn’t have to do anything he didn’t want. He would not need anyone. Well.. he may need someone to teach him more, since his knowledge of magic was limited but he was still free. Those muggles or what ever did Antonin called them, were the freaks, the trash, not him. They were nothing. They were dirt under his shoes.

Yet again he ended up thinking Antonin. The man had given him this change, he wouldn’t know about what could he do without him but he was still angry at the man. Where was he? He had told him that he would protect him, but here he was all bruised and bleeding with a death man at his feet and no sight of the man.

***

“Mrs. Dursley, how about you sit down and tell us why have you called us here?” Two police officers have came to the house two hours after her son had called them. Apparently dead body and a murderer inside her house wasn’t that important.

“My husband has been murdered by my nephew and he is upstairs so please go and arrest him.” Petunia was calm. She had two hours to dry up her tears and drink some coffee. Yes, her husband was dead, but she wasn’t going to dwell on it, she had too much to do. First thing was to make sure that the freak went to prison, then there was the funeral, telling people about it, making up a story, you couldn’t just go around saying that it was magic that murdered her husband. And of course she would have to figure out what to do with her and her sons life. She didn’t work, she didn’t clean or cook that often so what now? She didn’t know how to work, she had moved from her parents house straight to her husbands house who had always supported her. She had a collage degree in nursing but there was no way that she would ever change some grannys diapers.

“How did you come to this conclusion?” The police officer that was questioning her had a stone face on. Only his lips moved, other than that he just stared at her. His partner was looking around, but neither made any moves to go upstairs and fetching the murdered or even seeing the body.

“I came home, my husband was dead and my nephew was right next to him,” Petunia said straight on.

“And this means he did it, because?” Still the officer didn’t seemed to care what the woman said.

“Why don’t you already arrest him!? He is just laying in there, next to my husbands burned body!” Petunia was getting frustrated, how was she going to move on if the police didn’t even seem to believe that there was a dead body upstairs.

“Burned? If he is burned how do you know he is your husband?” Now the police man didn’t even look at her, he just stared at his notes. It was ridiculous.

“Well go look! Take tests or something! Just take that freak away from this house, he already killed my husband, how long will it take for him to hurt me or my son?” She was yelling now, losing all her cool she was so proud of. “Why are you here? Why isn’t there any detectives? Why aren’t you doing anything? There is a dead body upstairs for god sake!”

“Ma’m I need you to calm down. My partner here is going to go upstairs to take a look and you are going to tell me why do you think your nephew is the murder.”

“He is a freak. No good, always making a mess. Always doing bad things, bullying my poor Dudders and making my husbands life difficult. He’s disturped, should have dumbed him into some facility when he was a baby. But no, they wouldn’t let us, just told us to be strict with him. It was no good. And now. Now he killed my poor husband. Oh, my son. How is my son going to live without a father.” Petunia ranted, making sure that she got her poised look back together.

“How old is your nephew, Mrs. Dursley?”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Petunia didn’t like this. Of course it didn’t seem realistic that six years old killed a full grown man, burned a full grown man alive. But it was the truth. The boy was the devil, she was sure. “He is six, same age as my son.”

“Right” Petunia couldn’t help but to notice how young the man was, he looked like he was barely out of the police school or what ever they went to became a police officer. His eyes were also weirdly glazed, like he was just looking at head but not seeing anything. She had a bad feeling about this. The detectives should already be here, they should have already taken Harry to take custody and let her start the funeral planning. This was ridiculous.

“Officer Donohan, there is no dead body upstairs.” Donohans partner had come down the stairs, quietly so Petunia didn’t even notice that he was standing at the doorway. “But there was something else.”

_Wait what?_

“And what is that something else, Officer Wesley?” Donohan didn’t seem surprised about the announcement.

“The nephew. Beaten up and...” Officer Wesley seemed to have a hard time getting the words out. “And raped.”

All blood run out of the Petunias face. This wasn’t good. This was bad, worse than bad. This was a disaster. What would she do now? And where the Gods name was her husband? That freak was destroying her life. She should have just drowned him as a baby very least. She couldn’t blame Vernon for going too far, it wasn’t his fault that the boy was a freak. Probably had spelled him to do those things. She was sure of it. She knew that her husband wasn’t a saint but he always had a good reason for the things that he did. He had always made sure that she and her son had a good life. That was all that mattered to her. That boy upstairs seemed to live just to ruin her life. She had it all set up. Get married to a decent man that would provide for her, have a child, raise that child and make a home for the husband. Live a perfectly normal life. But there was nothing normal about her life. There had never been. When she was a child herself, there had been Lily, her perfect little sister. Freak of a sister. She had been the apple of their parent’s eyes and hers at some point. But Lily left to that freakish world, got married to a freak and had a freaky baby. Then she got dumbed on with that baby. It had never cried till the first time Vernon smacked him and that first time had been the only time. He had been too smart, making her perfect little Dudley look stupid.

“Mrs. Dursley? I will call an ambulance and social services and when they arrive I will escort you down to the station where you are going to tell us about the home life you and your mysteriously disappeared husband have provided for your nephew and everything else about him. If you have any close relatives I suggest that you call them and get them to pick up your son, because you will be spending a lot of time at the station. Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir.” Her voice had gotten quite and shaky. She was shaking, looking around, trying to find some rabbit whole escape to. It just didn’t make any sense. This morning she had come home and found her husband dead, now they were saying that he had just disappeared, that there was no body. What had that boy done? What would the neighbors say? “Vernon’s sister, Marge. She lives in Kensington and Dudley can go there, I think.”

“Well, make a call then. The social worker will stay here and wait with the boy till Marge gets here to pick him up. We will go to the station soon as the ambulance and the social worker arrive.” The officer still showed no emotions. He had stone hard look on his face and just coldly stared at the woman. 

Petunia really didn’t know what would she say to Marge. How would she explain to the woman that her brother was dead when the police didn’t believe her, when his body was missing for Gods sake. Seriously, what was she supposed to say?


	6. Going Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the man watching over Harry makes himself visible and takes Harry away, things get different. Politics, Bratva and social events comes to be everyday thing in the magical world of Russia. When the Golden boy is needed he isn’t so golden anymore and has managed to charm the enemies of Great Britain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the kudos and comments, they really mean lot to me.

Harry woke up not knowing where he was but he could feel someone stroking his hair gently. He didn’t want to open his eyes, it felt good to just lay there feeling something that he had never felt in his life.

“I’m sorry.”

Harry knew that voice. He had wanted to hear that voice earlier and here it was. It was too late but here it was, and he didn’t know what to do with it. His suppose savior was back from where ever he had been, and all Harry wanted to do was throw himself at him but that wasn’t him. He wasn’t supposed to get attached, he wasn’t supposed to need anyone.

“You’re not going back there. I’m going to take you to Moscow with me.” His accent sounded thicker.

Harry still didn’t open his eyes and staid quite listening. Not going back sounded nice but what was Moscow. He assumed that Antonin was from there but what would he do there. He didn’t speak Russian, not that he didn’t want to learn. He had heard Antonin curse in Russian few times and it had sounded fascinating. French and Italian were something what he also wanted to learn. Maybe Germany too. He would then be able to read Mein Kampf in its original languages. Maybe by then he would be bit older and understand the meaning of it bit better.

Antonin stared at the quite boy. He couldn’t help it but to feel quilty. The boy was all black and blue with broken bones and teared anus. He’s job had been to protect him, make him strong, shape him into something great. He could still make him great, but he would still always be damaged. The boy hadn’t really been normal from the begin with but this would definitely make him even more crazy. Maybe crazy wouldn’t be too bad. Vasil was expecting Harry to become a ruthless killer. A weapon.

“I don’t speak Russian.”

The boy finally talked.

“There are translation spells and ways to make learning easier.” Antonin explained. The boy was a prodigy, learning a new language wouldn’t be too hard even without the spells. “You would have tutor. Not just for Russian but for magic, math’s, etiquette, culture, combat and politics.”

“What do I need politics for?” Harry actually looked at Antonin this time. His eyes were darker than before. They used to be bright green but now the brightness was gone. The green had turned to almost black and hollow. It was really sad that boy that young could look so empty inside. It wasn’t like Harry had been the most emotional person before but the look on boys face scared Antonin little. The eyes made him look even more beautiful in very dangerous way and he was only six.

“You’ll understand once you start learning it.”

“That’s a not very good answer.” Harry stared at him.

Harry didn’t really care why he was going to learn politics or any of the other things that Antonin listed. He also didn’t care that what it was that he would be learning. Learning was learning and it was something that Harry was good at, that he actually liked doing. And politics did sound interesting. Etiquette other hand he was bit itchy about.

“So, when are we going?”

“When the muggle doctors gives you a clear. I will take you to see a proper Healer but you need to be well enough to travel. We will take portkey to Norway and a train from there. A portkey will be fast even when it’s international but the train will take two days so you need to be in better shape.” Antonin told him. They could just take a portkey straight to Moscow like he usually did but international portkeys were always dangerous so he wouldn’t risk Harry when he was in such a state. It was much safer to go to Oslo first.

Harry didn’t like the sound of that. He had a feeling that it would take ages to the doctors clear him. He wasn’t exactly exited about moving to Russian but it did sound better that staying at hospital and it did definitely sound better than go back to his aunt. What happen to his aunt?

“My aunt? What happened with her? How come I’m not in prison?”

Antonin laughed at him. “Well your aunt is the one in prison. She was arrested for child abuse and negligence. And you are not in prison because there was no body so there was no murder. Your uncle had just disappeared after beating and raping you. He must have realized how long his prison sentence would have been and run of.”

Rape.

Harry closed his eyes. He knew what the word meant because of how much of reader he was and he did realize what had happen to him but it still was something he couldn’t really get his head around it. It had felt so wrong and it had been so painful. He felt dirty.

He had no words. He was just disgusted with the situation and himself even when he couldn’t really understand it.

“You should sleep some more.” Antonin’s voice wasn’t more than a whisper. He sounded so broken, defeated. He hadn’t moved from Harrys side since he had arrived to the hospital. When the alarms of Harrys distress went off it was already too late to do anything but to race to hospital. He had been in middle of conversation with Vasil and their Finnish ambassador when he realized what was happening.

“Will you stay?” Harry wasn’t sure if he should even ask that. He wasn’t sure if he wanted the answer, Antonin had already left him once. And even when the man talked about taking him to Russia, away from his relatives Harry wasn’t sure if he could actually trust him. Trusting the man hadn’t really done any good for him so far.

“Yes. I won’t leave this hospital before you do.” In the end the answer did give Harry some sort of relieve and he fell to sleep right after. Antonin breathed out heavily and loosened his grip on the armchair. He wished that he would be able to sleep also but that was too much a privilege these days.

***

The second time Harry woke up it was when a nurse brought him food. But he couldn’t bring himself to actually eat it. It was some sort of meat stew and even a thought of eating it made Harry sick to his stomach. He hadn’t eaten properly for weeks but still he wasn’t hungry enough to eat meat. He didn’t dare to ask for anything else because that hadn’t been possible before, how would he know that this time it would have been okay.

He didn’t know what to do with himself. He was too smart for his age but still a child and sometimes he even himself forgot that and it was just sad.

Antonin had said that he wouldn’t leave the hospital but he wasn’t at the room and that scared Harry. He was getting too attached to the man. He was already. Maybe he had gone to get food for himself or to the bathroom. Or he had just left. Harry didn’t want to think about it and kept poking his food without no intention to actually eat it.

It didn’t take long for Antonin to walk back in to room. He looked tired. He had his long black hair tied back and he was again wearing a suit but it was more relaxed than before, he didn’t have a jacket, just pants and a dress shirt with some sort of weird looking leather boots. His eyes were darker than usual and they were showing pain, his usual icy look was long gone replaced with worry and something that you could almost mistake for compassion. But compassion was something that Antonin didn’t do, he had a need to protect Harry and he was attached to the boy but compassion just simply was something that he didn’t know how to express.

“You need to eat.” His accent had gotten even thicker.

“It’s meat.” Harry was too tired to give a proper explanation he just told the man his reason, it should be enough.

“You’re vegetarian? That’s new but not unexpected.” Antonin had learned how Harry felt about humans very fast and also noticed how differently he thought of animals. Vegetarianism wasn’t common in Wizarding world and Harry would get some weird looks for it and had hard time to make people understand his choice but Antonin understood his choice and respected it. At least Harry was a vegetarian and not vegan. “I call the nurse and have them get you something else.”

Harry looked at Antonin with wonder. He was grateful but uncertain and couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t believe that he even had food in front of him and now Antonin was telling him that he could get food that he liked.

Antonin quickly left the room again but this time to find the nurse. Harrys room was close to nurses station and for a reason. They were sure that he would need more active observation than usual. The boy was so weak and had been through so much.

“Excuse me.”

The nurses at the station seemed to be bit scared of the man and it wasn’t a surprise. But it did make things difficult when the nurses wouldn’t look at him and quickly run to the other way unless they were visiting Harrys room and he was there. They didn’t really understand who the man was and why was he sticking so close to Harry but no one really understood. And it wasn’t their job to understood so they did nothing, their job was to look after the boy, simple as that.

“Harry is a vegetarian and he feels very strongly about the fact and I’m sure that everyone in this hospital is aware how much that boy needs to eat so would someone please get him something that doesn’t have meat in it.”

The nurse that he was speaking to was almost shaking. But kept nodding the whole time that Antonin was speaking. She didn’t really agree that someone so young was refusing to eat meat, it was important to get the nutrition’s that were in the meat but if it was the only way to get the boy eat then they would just have to accept it.

“Of course. But I will also put some nutrition’s to go through his cannula. Someone will come soon.”

Antonin thanked her and went back to Harrys room. He didn’t want to leave the boy alone more than necessary. It was easier to leave to get food for himself or coffee when the boy was asleep especially when he saw Harrys face when he had woken up alone.

Even after getting his vegetarian meal Harry didn’t eat much. He had trouble swallowing and his stomach started to hurt after few bites. He remembered the one time he had visited an actual coffee shop and how much he had eaten there and he remembered how sick he had felt after it just like the lady had warned him. But then it had been about freedom, about being able to buy and eat anything he wanted because he had money, stolen money but money anyways. But now he was being more careful. He didn’t want to get more sick than he already was, he wanted to get out of the hospital and fast.

He felt so uncomfortable every time some nurse or doctor came to poke him or asked questions. He guessed that he was lucky that police hadn’t come to ask him any questions so far. He didn’t know what to say if they did. With doctors and nurses the questions were easy enough, he just didn’t like them. It had more to do with the people than the questions. It was quite clear that he didn’t like people. He still couldn’t say he hated them because he didn’t hate Antonin and he was people. Saying you hate people means you hate every human in his mind at least. He just wished that it wouldn’t take long to get out of the hospital.

*

It took two weeks before Harry could leave the hospital and Antonin never left his side. Now they were on the train somewhere in the Finland and Harry was still very unsure about how things were going to go. He kept staring out of window even thought there wasn’t much to look at, just never ending forests. Before they had left the hospital the police had finally come to talk to him but to his surprise it had gone pretty well. At first he had been terrified and hadn’t believed it when Antonin told him that they weren’t there to arrest him or hurt him. Two officers had asked him questions about how his aunt and uncle had treated him and when had he gone to their care. They had wanted very specific answers so they would know what sort of charges would Petunia get. In the end they had explained that a social worker would come talk to him about where he would be placed after his hospital stay but Antonin had taken him out of hospital before she had come. When officers had mentioned high possibility of orphanage, Harry had panicked and Moscow had suddenly sounded extremely good idea.

“Tell me something.” Harry whispered to the man who was sitting front of him. They had their own compartment in the train and the door was locked firmly so no one would walk in. It was a magical train and Antonin didn’t exactly want to be recognized when traveling with the boy-who-lived. They needed to do something about Harrys looks soon as possible. The scar on his forehead was the biggest problem, there wasn’t many wizards or witches who wouldn’t know its meaning, Britain or no Britain.

“What do you want to know?” Antonin asked the boy.

Harry looked thoughtful for just a second before making his mind. “Russia. Tell me about Russia.”

“Ah. I don’t know how much you know about the muggle side of the things but the most simple explanation would be to say that Russia is divided in two. For muggles Russia is called Soviet Union and at some point you need to learn what that means and what is communism but first you need to learn about our world.

Wizards still call Russia, a Russia and we have our own leaders. The Minister of Magic is the official political leader and then are other leaders, leaders like the man I work for. Just like in Britain, we hide from the muggles but we hide in plain side. We don’t have any hidden magical villages like Hogsmeade, most live in among the muggles and we even employ muggles, they just don’t know it. For us it’s safer that way. Russia is much larger country than Britain, our population is much higher. There is no possibility to be completely cut from the muggles so we might as well use them but we do our everything to do that without them realizing it. Do you understand any of this?” Antonin tried to explain. He didn’t see necessary to talk about how beautiful Russia was, Harry was going to see it soon. But what Harry needed to know was how things were worked.

Many magical communities tended to avoid Russia and looked down on them because their dark nature and how they handled things. But they didn’t realize how much danger Soviet Union brought on them, they needed to be able to defend themselves and magic couldn’t do everything, not like the English Purebloods liked to believe. Yes, muggles were below them, but they were still dangerous and clever. A simple Ministry and simple rules just weren’t enough. And unlike British Magical Minister, they had a Minister who knew that, who accepted the fact that there were people who had much more power to protect them. But protection was never free, it needed sacrifices and ruthless actions. It needed an army.

“I guess. We need to protect ourselves from people like Dursleys.” Harry whispered after thinking about Antonin’s words for a minute. He couldn’t help but to compare all muggles to Dursleys because he never had that much interaction with anyone else. When he did, the Dursleys always made sure that, that interaction ended badly. But he was scared when Antonin said that they still lived around muggles and if they used them, didn’t that mean that they needed to interact with them? Would he still need to meet people like Dursleys, would they be able to hurt him? But the whole point was to protect them from people like Dursleys so that wouldn’t make much sense.

“Good. You will understand it better when your studies start, I promise you that. You will know everything you need to know and much more.” Antonin gave him a some what cold smile. Harry wasn’t sure if the man knew anything else but still that smile was comforting. For him everything about Antonin was comforting after everything.

They didn’t really talk for the rest of the way. Harry fell a sleep quickly and Antonin kept his eyes firmly on him, like he was afraid of the boy suddenly disappearing or getting hurt again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry that this was bit shorter chapter. Next one is going to be longer.


End file.
